


Harvest God

by ycnderes



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: but other ppl die, it's like a sentence or two so use your discretion, not super graphic depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ycnderes/pseuds/ycnderes
Summary: prompt: Strade is a corn/harvest demon, and needs a blood sacrifice every year for the crops to grow(finished prompt from a discontinued halloween event)





	Harvest God

You struggle against the ropes for another moment, but they’re strong, stronger than you. You blink tears out of your eyes and try to breathe, to think calmly, but there’s screaming and taunting and laughing around you and it’s overwhelming when you can’t see anything.

 

The bag over your head is thick, makes everything inside feel humid and hot, makes it almost worse to breathe, and you can’t see anything out if it, can’t see where exactly you’re being led. It’s rough going, you keep tripping and they keep dragging you up onto your feet or drag you on your knees.

 

You’re finally pushed down onto the ground, first to your knees and then shoved until you’re lying face down. You can smell the dirt below you, grass pokes and tickles your bare arms. The crowd around you is falling silent, and fear is rushing into you.

 

You want to get up.

You want to scream.

 

You lay there as a voice starts talking. You try to pay attention, try to figure out what’s being said - what are words and what are sounds and is that the voice or the crowd or - and you can feel tears start up again. They slide down your face across the bridge of your nose. It’s itchy and wet, and you want to move and wipe it away. The voice stops.

 

There’s a hush. It’s so quiet now, all you can hear are crickets chirping.

 

You’re pulled up onto your knees and the bag is torn off your head. You gasp in the cool air, and look around, try to understand. There are crowds surrounding you, and in front of you is a fire. A huge bonfire, tall too. It was made out of stacks of corn. Stacks and stacks of corn, it looks to be about five feet tall, all on fire. You stare at it, and then look at the people.

 

They look normal. Like normal people, about to do normal things. Grocery shop, maybe. They look normal, but in their eyes is this fanatical gleam. You close your eyes tight as the hands on your arms pull you up on your feet. You look at them. The same gleam - maybe the fire’s reflection? - is in their eyes. They pull you closer to the fire. Close enough to feel the heat, to start sweating from how hot it is.

 

You scream and beg them to stop, beg the crowd for help. Nobody moves, nobody says anything. You stop, only a few feet away from this monstrous fire, and start to sob.

 

“You haven’t even begun to suffer yet, and you’re already crying?” This comes from the fire, too loud to be more than just a bit in front of you.

 

You choke on a scream as the fire fizzles out in a second. It goes out so quickly, like a match against a finger, you can’t help but stare in shock.

 

And, from the smoke, on top of the burned husks of corn, a man steps down. He walks solidly, as if he isn’t afraid of the pile of ash crumbling and taking him with it. He looks pleased, well, more than pleased. Smug.

 

He steps off and faces you. The men haven’t left your side, but you can see they’re not looking at him. Everyone in the crowd is kneeling.

 

“Cat got your tongue?” A voice whispers in your ear. You gasp and swing your head, but there’s nobody around except for the two men, and they’re not close enough.

 

You look back at the man, now shaking. You’re afraid. It’s terrifying to realize, but you know you’re scared. He looks so dangerous.

 

It’s not even really what he looks like. He’s dressed casually, almost more-so than anyone else here, with a green button-up and khaki pants. He kind of looks like one of those nature show guys. His hair is a bit too long for most men, but that’s not the troubling thing. He looks normal. He looks...

 

He looks human, but almost… You glimpse away and hold him in just the corner of your eye. It’s almost as if he’s trying too hard to look normal. To look human.

 

Something seems to shimmer, to break, when you look away. You can’t look away for more than a second. You don’t want to see what that is, don’t want to see what he is when you strip away the human.

 

He grins, and his teeth look too sharp. “Like what you see?” You can’t even reply, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I hope so, ‘cause I’m the last thing you’ll ever see with those eyes.” He motions to them, and makes a popping motion with his thumb. Laughs when you close your eyes.

 

“Open them, liebling.” You struggle for a moment but obey. “Good, it’s good to accept what you’re going to go through. It’s easier. Accept it.”

 

You don’t feel like you can open your mouth to say or scream anything, but you see he wants an answer. He wants obedience. You nod, your head working through rust and it feels like you’ve aged an eternity in seconds.

 

He smiles down at you, clicks his fingers, and the men holding you dissolve. Their bodies look like they’ve been pureed, and gore spatters around onto you and the man.

 

You’re screaming now, and he just throws his head back and laughs. Like it’s the funniest thing he’s seen in awhile.

 

He grabs you by the arm. “Time we get going, right?” He winks at you, and you can’t help it, you have to ask.

 

“Who are you?”

 

And he smiles at you, all teeth, all look wrong, like they belong to something other than a human. They’re too big and too sharp to belong to anything but a predator. He smiles with those teeth. “Didn’t they tell you what you signed up for?” He asks as if he already knows the answer.

 

You can feel your body shake, like a mouse in front of a cat. “They grabbed me from my room, I didn’t sign up for anything.” 

 

He brings you closer, sticks his nose into your hair and sniffs at you long, like he’s trying to place your scent. “Not your lucky day,” he finally says. “You’re going to suffer. You’re going to hurt.” He licks his lips. “I’m going to hurt you.” He grinds against your front, and you want to cry.   
  


“You’re pretty cute though, for a blood sacrifice. Maybe I’ll keep you alive, make you beg me to hurt you more.” You’re crying again. He wipes your tears off your cheek and sticks his fingers into his mouth and groans. “Your tears are sweet with fear, liebling,” he growls into your ear. “Beg me to hurt you, beg me to make you bleed, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.

 

Go on. Beg me.”

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to separate these out into their own fics, i thought it'd make things easier :0 Sorry for any confusion!
> 
> want more like this? i'm at ycnderes.tumblr.com!


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